


The Curse Of Fire

by SkyFrost



Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012), The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan
Genre: Angst and Feels
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-15
Updated: 2015-06-15
Packaged: 2018-04-04 12:25:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4137486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SkyFrost/pseuds/SkyFrost
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Leo bears a curse since birth - his own curse for being able to control fire, being different. That curse, of course, was laid by our one and only Dirt Queen. Leo's childhood with an amazingly insane, inhumane, and evil twist. Leo's POV starting chapter 1. Evil author AU.<br/>Warnings include:<br/>An author that is not really getting the hang of feels, but eagerly trying to stuff this fic full of it,</p>
<p>Inhumane human experiments</p>
<p>So... please read at your own risk!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Nerdling_Queen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nerdling_Queen/gifts), [RedTears](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedTears/gifts), [aphtexts](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=aphtexts).
  * Inspired by [the bond (we wish we didn't share)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3868168) by [Nerdling_Queen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nerdling_Queen/pseuds/Nerdling_Queen). 
  * Inspired by [the bond (we wish we didn't share)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3868168) by [Nerdling_Queen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nerdling_Queen/pseuds/Nerdling_Queen). 



Leo secretly hated himself since eight. The day he killed his own mother. People told him it's not his fault. Not at all. But he knew. He knew.

He was the one who set the fire. He should have took on responsibility. He tried telling people of the Dirt Queen. No one cared, and those who tried believed he was insane, paranoid, crazy. Who wouldn't be, they say, a boy, barely eight, lost his mother at this young age. He was ridden with guilt. But he didn't know what was in store for him. His own curse, that he had to bear with him. The fate that he will kill, by fire, anyone who took him in, cared for him, and he got attached to them. His hands would grow warmer for a few days, just enough to warn him of what to come and let him pack his bags, and leave. He refused to say he ran away, as he was determined to protect who he loved. Of course during the first few times, he was unaware about his curse. Then, slowly, he realised. Then hee started pulling away from people, afraid that he would accidentally harm them, or worse, kill them. 

He just wanted to stop.

Stop everything.

Stopping people calling him an arsonist. Because wherever he goes, things get burned down. 

He wanted to stop.

Stop everything. 

He hated his fire. He wants to stop being able to control fire. A deadly element. He, himself, is a professional killing machine. Destructive. Painful. Hurts. 

He tried burning himself, but it didn't work. And he thinks that he has to die the same way he murdered people - by fire. He waited for the fire that is stronger than him, and consume him.


	2. Chapter One: the first orphanage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the irregular update.... now we start our mission... look for more feels!

The first thing that came to mind: the noise. I heard the crying of babies, the bustling of kids, some younger, some older, doing chores. The man who brought me here, picked me by the collar of my shirt as I was attacking him the whole way, and walked toward the orphanage.

The rejection of my own family was cruel. I was called a devil, a monster, and other unflattering names. I was born different. 

While being left handed, I also have different eye color in both eyes. One was an amber color, which was pretty rare, but my left eyes was a startlingly red. Some  
thing called complete heterochromia made my eyes have a different color, but, this was four rarities in one body. First, my left handedness, which was commonly ignored but unusual, as less that half the globe was left handed. Then my amber eye. Then my red eye. Then the complete whatever-it-was. The demon, the devil, the monster. The mistake.

They were not far from the truth.

Still holding me, who was fighting and wriggling to get free, the man put me down on the doorstep. 

Everyone stopped whatever they were doing and stared at me. I closed my cursed left eye, hoping they couldn't see the blood red, but everyone saw. 

The whispers, as I was used to, as I clutched my sister's hand. Did I not mention my sister? I barely saved her from the fire. She was unhurt although the flames, my flames, were licking her skin. She was grasping the sparks, giggling when I found her. She was a week till six.

The woman came down and welcomed me and my sister, and ushered us into the same bedroom as I insisted. 

"Leo, what's happening?"

Her hazel eyes, which contantly flickered from brown and green, watched me, trusting. I swallowed, steeled myself, reminded myself I couldn't break down in front of her, she's my responsibility now, and answered.

"I dunno, Leonie. Mom had to leave for a while, so now we are going to live here while she's gone."

But she's gone forever, I added mentally. 

Leonie wasn't there when the man and I searched for relatives to take care of us. She didn't hear the mean words that was hissed at me, the slamming doors, the anger. 

The people who you thought once loved you. But it was just because they loved my mother and Leonie. I was tolerated.

Their acting was flawless. 

I once thought they would care. At least somebody will care for me and my sister. But all of them turned their backs at me. 

"Where did Mom go?"

Leonie broke my thoughts.

"A place far away," I replied, and patted her head, and she nuzzled against me.


	3. Chapter 3: The Bullies

I got in more fights than a boy usually get. And I mean boys who always get beaten up.

I'm pretty short, and thin, so I'm a natrual target. Not to mention my eyes.

What they don't realise, is that I'm pretty agile, and I hit back real hard. Mom made me go to some karate class, and this kendo class. You can see my mom likes Japan. But, back to my point, I sent people for broken noses and bones when I can't take it anymore. 

But usually I get beaten up on purpose.

I don't fight when the fight doesn't have a purpose.

The older boy, Chris, kicked me to the wall. The thing I hate for being as light as a feather is I get pushed around often.

I slammed into the wall, hard. A kick to to my left, aimed at my head. I laughed silently. It may look fast for others, but it looked as slow as a major traffic jam to me. I ducked a bit, let his foot graze my hair, and sat back at my original position, covering my head. 

Chris fell for it.

He hit me again and again, and I ducked. He left enough hurt for me to brusie, but not enough to make me hurt for two days. He tore my shirt and my body was painfully bare. The ribs that I could easily count, and my sholders look like skulls of birds. I scrambled for my baggy shirt.

I staggered back into my room after the abuse.

Leonie, sitting o~ the bed, turned. Her eyes widen, and simply stared at me.

I did not know she was there.

I slammed the door back into place, and legged it as quickly as I could to the attic.

How can I be so stupid? Couldn't I knock? I shouln't let her see me like this. I should've crept into the room late at night, lest she saw me. Why, how, can I be this careless. 

The voices in my head screamed words I can hardly reconise. The same words over and over again.


End file.
